Forging
by ArtandLies
Summary: Asha Greyjoy meets the Queen Across the Water. Not canon, obviously, but would take place midway through A Storm of Swords. A bit PWP.


"Yield!" Asha growled as she stretched her body over Daenerys' trembling back. She wound a hand through the Targaryen's silver hair and yanked, drawing a cry from the smaller woman. "Yield, Mother of Dragons, and I'll be kind."

Kindness was not what Dany wanted. Kindness was not what she had pleaded for during their last coupling. She wanted this roughness, this aggressive, wanton need. "A dragon does not bend to the will of another."

"Nor does iron, m'lady. Yield."

"Fire can melt iron," Dany breathed as she struggled under Asha's weight. The pressure of the woman's mound on her buttocks pinned her to the floor in a delicious torment of discomfort and arousal.

"Aye, and I do believe you'll get around to melting me tonight, but as of yet I haven't begun to stoke your fires."

"I have no need to temper a sword, Ironborn."

"You'll find no sword between my legs, _khaleesi_." And to prove her point, she grabbed Dany's right hand, drew it painfully behind her back, and shoved it roughly into her breeches. The wetness her fingers found there astounded Daenerys.

"Irri, Jhiqui, leave us. Take the dragons." She wasn't bothered by the presence of her handmaids, but she knew Asha would only go so far with the girls in the tent. The dragons, well… Dany knew they would tolerate very little of this violence before Drogon or Rhaegal decided she was being attacked and set Asha aflame. She couldn't maneuver at all with Asha grinding her hand between them, but she was able to turn her head enough to see Irri and Jhiqui luring her dragons out the tent flap before they sealed it behind them.

"No one here to save you now, _khaleesi_. Do you yield?"

Daenerys did not respond with words. Instead, she wrenched her right shoulder away from Asha and used her freed hand to lever herself off the floor. The back of her head connected with Asha's chin with a sickening _thwack_. The Ironwoman spilled off of her in a howling tangle of limbs, and Dany followed her across the carpet, then straddled her hips. Blood seeped through the fingers that covered the lower half of Asha's face.

"Well, you've got me good and bloody. Now where's the fire, Targaryen?"

"I'd sooner warm you by means other than fire," she replied and pushed at the tunic covering Asha's slim body. "Perhaps if _you_ yield, I can show you." Dany couldn't overpower Asha, she knew; she would have to use weapons other than brute strength to win this battle. She rocked her hips over the other woman's and was pleased by the low growl that erupted from between Asha's bloody fingers. A woman's weapon it was, then.

Dany repeated the motion as she untied her painted vest and cast it aside. The Ironwoman let her remove her tunic, eyes glinting wickedly in the light of the braziers. In a moment gentler than she intended, Dany drew Asha's hands away from her chin mopped up the blood with the tunic.

"It will scar," Dany said quietly.

"It will make for a fine story. 'This was the gift the Mother of Dragons – the Stormborn, the great _khaleesi_, last of her line and commander of a slave army – gave to me when I tried to take her as a sea wife.'" Asha smiled wide and proud, and pressed a finger to the wound. It spanned a diagonal finger-length from the lower left edge of her lip, around the horn of her chin, and just touched the place where her jaw met her elegant neck. "Kiss me, _khaleesi_, and I will forgive you."

Dany leaned over her and let her silver hair fall around their faces. She did not care for Asha's forgiveness; her dragons would provide all the forgiveness she sought in the world. She did, however, care for the Ironwoman's body, and the company that so often distracted Dany from the droll marches between cities. Asha was not hers to command anywhere but this tent. She sought only an alliance with the Queen Across the Water, in the hopes that Balon Greyjoy would be able to retain his feeble throne in the Iron Islands once Daenerys won her brother's throne back from the Usurpers.

Dany had not yet found an appropriate compromise, and was loath to return Asha to Westeros for fear that she would spread word that the last Targaryen had resurrected the dragons. Trust proved hard to come by for the exiled Queen, but little by little, Asha had won her over, until finally she ended up in her bedrolls. Asha seemed content to sail her longship up the coast behind Dany's _khalasar_, trading when she could, and warming Dany's bed while she awaited the final terms of their alliance.

"Kiss me," Asha reminded, peering up through the curtain of silver hair that fell around them.

Dany eyed the other woman suspiciously, waiting for the trap. When none came, she kissed first one cheek, then the other, and then Asha's sharp nose, and finally her smiling mouth. It started slowly, only an ember in a fire dampened by blood, but Asha tended the kiss carefully, until Dany was moaning into her mouth and rocking faster against her. She felt Asha's hands wind around her hips and pull at the laces that ran up the side of her horsehair leggings.

Daenerys knew better than to let her guard down, but by the time she realized what was happening, she was once again pinned to the floor on her belly. Asha laughed, a delighted sound that washed over her like so many waves of happiness. Dany could feel a hand splayed between her shoulder blades, pressing her chest painfully into the pillows below. Two heartbeats later, Asha had Dany's leggings off her and was forcing a hand between her legs.

"I like to be on top." The Ironwoman sighed, almost wistful, or so Dany thought. She squirmed uselessly against the pillows as Asha traced her buttocks with a sure finger. Her hand continued to push Dany's legs apart, until Dany felt the other woman's legs land between her own, holding her open and exposed. "You had your chance to yield. Now you're mine. You may be fire," she whispered as she ghosted her lips over a naked shoulder, "but I am iron, and of the sea."

She couldn't deny that iron and sea had conquered fire, at least not while practiced fingers moved in and out of her with the power of a hammer striking an anvil, and Asha's body crashing against her like waves against the cliffs.

And yet, the fire grew within Daenerys, even as Asha conquered her. She cradled the flame in her chest and fed it with deep, heady moans thrown over her shoulder. She felt Asha plunge into her again and again, and lifted her hips to meet each thrust in an inferno of lust.

Asha shifted the hand pressing Dany into the pillows and wrapped it around Dany's shoulder, then pulled her roughly up and back, her fingers forsaking their task only long enough to enter her from the front. She dragged Dany into her lap, wrapped her free hand around a breast, and worked another finger into Dany.

The fire licked at her skin everywhere Asha touched her. She was positive that if the Ironwoman worked her hand any faster, or squeezed her nipple any harder, or bit her neck with a bit more pressure, she would simply burst into flames. Daenerys reached over her shoulder and twisted her fingers in Asha's short dark hair and pulled her down for a kiss.

She supposed that kiss was a yielding of sorts, but only so much as to give Asha the ability to unleash the flames that danced down her torso and lit up her body. Asha took the opportunity. She clutched at Dany, clawed at her, moaned into her ear and pushed damp breeches against her ass, and finally thrust her fingers so far into the fire that Dany tumbled headlong into it.


End file.
